


You'd Better Watch Out

by Sehrezad



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: Case Fic, Christmas, F/M, Family, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-13
Updated: 2014-12-23
Packaged: 2018-03-01 07:40:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 15,305
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2765132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sehrezad/pseuds/Sehrezad
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With Christmas approaching, Abbie and Ichabod are looking forward to their first holiday season as a couple. But there's a strange crime wave in Sleepy Hollow and bodies keep popping up while children are going missing. Ichabbie with a healthy dose of Jenny/Irving, not so case focused as it first sounds, Katrina friendly</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

_Summary: With Christmas approaching, Abbie and Ichabod are looking forward to their first holiday season as a couple. But there's a strange crime wave in Sleepy Hollow and bodies keep popping up while children are going missing. Ichabbie with a healthy dose of Jenny/Irving, not so case focused as it first sounds, Katrina friendly_

_Enjoy!_

* * *

**12th December**

"I can't believe you bought that!" Abbie laughed as she and Jenny exited the shop with bags in hand. As best as she could, Abbie tried to pull the collar of her coat tighter together as the freezing air crept under her warm clothes.

"What?" Jenny asked, her breath coming in white puffs. "You said I looked hot."

"I'm not talking about that," Abbie replied, referring to that sexy Santa outfit Jenny had bought. "I'm talking about that pair of boxers with the dancing reindeers on it that would give me nightmares for the rest of my life."

"But those reindeers are just too cute… and Frank will love them," Jenny shrugged.

"And that just freaks the hell out of me," Abbie replied, letting a woman with a stroller pass between them.

"You just say that," Jenny rebuffed. "But imagine finding Ichy wearing Christmas shorts when you unwrap him on Christmas morning."

"I'd rather not," Abbie snorted while an old book in a shop window grabbed her attention in passing.

"Well, then, I'll just give it to him." Jenny's teasing voice brought Abbie's focus back on her sister as she turned back to her suspiciously. "You'd just throw it away," she taunted her sister with a white box with a red bow on it.

"What the hell is that?" Abbie asked, reaching for the box but Jenny pulled it out of her reach. They wrestled awkwardly for a while - the shopping bags in their hands and the Christmas crowd not making it easy for them - but finally the box ended up in Abbie's hands. Her mouth hung open when she opened it.

"Baby, it's cold outside," Abbie read in an incredulous tone the words written on the bright red boyshorts. "Oh, my God, Jenny!"

"That's my early Christmas gift for you," Jenny beamed. "You can thank me later."

"No way," Abbie covered the box. "No way I give this to him. And neither will you," she looked at her sister pointedly then stuffed the box into her bag.

"Your loss, sis," Jenny shrugged then resumed walking. "Anyway, any idea what you're giving to Mr. Tall-and-British?"

"Kidding me? I have no idea what I'm going to give to any of you."

"You're doing the Christmas shopping all wrong, you know," Jenny laughed and Abbie laughed with her.

And true enough, Abbie was packed with bags but their Christmas shopping could hardly be called a success on her part. All she found was clothes and books and what-not for her but she was yet to buy anything for her friends.

"Katrina said that she's making the presents herself," Jenny shared. "Do you think we should do the same? I mean it's clearly not in the same league than going out and buying something."

"Oh, yeah, sure," Abbie agreed with an obvious frown on her face. "You remember the last time I made you a gift?"

"Sure," Jenny nodded. "You took up knitting that year. Though I'm still not sure what it was you made me."

"And that's exactly what I'm talking about," Abbie laughed and Jenny readily joined in. "It was a hat."

"Oh," Jenny stopped for a moment. "In any case, it made an excellent pillowcase. I still have it, you know."

"Really?" Abbie asked.

"Yeah. I do."

"That is really sweet," Abbie smiled, touched. "Maybe I do knit you something for Christmas."

"Please, don't," Jenny laughed out with a shake of her head, her laughter, though, died abruptly when her glance fell on something dark in the alleyway they were just passing.

"What is it?" Abbie asked concerned when she noticed that Jenny had stopped.

"Nothing," Jenny replied slowly, looking into the dark alleyway. "That cat just seemed strange… and way too big," she shook her head. "As if it wasn't... from this world."

"A demon cat?" Abbie laughed amused. "A couple of weeks without demon activity and you start seeing weird things where they are not." Jenny didn't look convinced. "For what it's worth, I know the feeling. Last summer, when we ran into a dry spell, I couldn't shake the feeling that my backyard neighbor was some kind of night monster or whatever. You know, he started roving his yard after sundown, murmuring to himself. It turned out he took up entomology as a hobby and he was collecting bugs... talking to them."

"Hilarious," Jenny told her flatly, still preoccupied by the thing she thought she'd seen.

"Look," Abbie started with a sigh when Jenny wouldn't turn from the alley. "Let's just enjoy the fact that we've got a little break from all that apocalyptic shit. Don't jinx it by imagining things. I, for one, would really like to spend my first real Christmas with Ichabod in peaceful relaxation." And with that she started to walk, ready to get home.

"You do know that there's nothing peaceful... or relaxing about Christmas, right?" with a final glance into the alley, Jenny called after her sister, catching up with her.

* * *

When Abbie entered the cabin, the smell of freshly cut pine tree reached her nostrils. She closed her eyes and savored it for a moment before she looked around the living room. And true enough, a beautiful - and large - tree was standing by the window right next to the fireplace where a fire was crackling merrily. It all looked so warm and cozy that a Hallmark card couldn't have captured it more perfectly.

The only thing missing was the falling snow outside, Abbie lamented. Unfortunately the weather forecast hadn't predicted snow for the holiday and, for the first time in years, Abbie was saddened by the prospect.

Either way, she was determined to embrace what was in front of her and not dwell on what was missing. And at the moment, it meant a warm home with her wonderful boyfriend sprawled out on the couch.

Carefully, she disposed of her bags, unwrapped herself from her warm clothes and took of her boots, then tiptoed to the couch and slowly climbed on top of Ichabod and stretched languidly. When Ichabod opened his eyes, all he could see was Abbie's bright smile and her sparkling eyes.

"Hey there," she greeted him and Ichabod smiled sleepily.

"Welcome home," he murmured, securing his arms around her small form. "Was your shopping trip fruitful?"

"It was... in a way," Abbie nodded. "And I can see that your day was successful, too."

"Do you like it?"

"We already had a tree, you know," Abbie pointed out, not blurting out at once how much she loved that tree.

"That pitiful, little plastic thing?" Ichabod asked with a small condescending smile on his lips. Abbie wanted to kiss him. "That is not a tree."

"Sure it is," Abbie pressed then added, "A tiny, pitiful one," she admitted finally. Ichabod gave her a bemused look. "I love it," she amended finally. "But what made you cut down a tree? You're, after all, all against this whole dead plant in the house thing."

"I still stand by my opinion but I came to accept that it is part of modern culture – however puzzling it may be. And I also observed how people like to go to excess and have these Christmas trees in sizes that surely hardly fit their homes," Ichabod explained. "In any case... in many windows, I saw those large trees already decorated. I wished you to have one, too."

A beaming smile appeared on Abbie's face.

"I love it," she repeated with a loving smile. "I truly do. It's so sweet that you went out and cut a tree by yourself just for me to have a real, big tree for Christmas. Thank you."

"You are welcome. And anyway, if this modern culture insists on having a dead plant in the house during the holidays, then be it a real one and not some horrible imitation of it."

"And way to ruin the moment," Abbie drawled but didn't get offended by the remark.

"And I might like the sight of it, too," he mumbled embarrassed and an amused smile lit up Abbie's face.

"You are such a big sap, Ichabod Crane," she observed, pecking his lips then pushing herself up from him.

"So," Ichabod followed Abbie as she stood up. "Is there any decorations in this cabin?"

"I don't think so. But we can go and buy some," she offered. She knew that she had some in her old house but, seeing that Katrina was living there at the moment, she let the woman use hers in her Christmas decoration. And man, did the woman go overboard with it! "Or we can ask Katrina if she'd used mine or she went out and bought new ones."

"Or we can do it by ourselves."

"What is it with everybody wanting to go DIY today?"

"I do not know what you are referring to."

"Jenny suggested to make our presents by hand."

"That is an excellent idea."

"Absolutely not," Abbie declared.

"Of course," Ichabod agreed dejectedly. "You have already completed your Christmas shopping," he eyed the large pack of bags.

"Not exactly," Abbie winced.

"But you have an astonishing amount of merchandise with you," Ichabod observed.

"Well, you know how it is… you see just the prefect shirt… or shoes… those pants you were looking for…"

"You mean that you haven't bought anything that would classify as Christmas present," Ichabod concluded.

"Yeah," Abbie admitted sheepishly.

"But there is something that looks like a present to me," Ichabod stepped up to the bags and grabbed the white box with the red ribbon he'd seen peeking out of the pile of goods Abbie had procured.

Abbie's eyes went wide as she saw the box Jenny had bought in Ichabod's hands.

"No," she exclaimed hastily as she all but flew to his side and snatched the box from him. "That's not a present," she smiled up at him sweetly, stuffing the box into her handbag, fully intending to get rid of it later. "But… I may have something of interest for you," she teased, reaching into another bag and producing a slightly bigger box from it.

"Really?" Ichabod raised a curious eyebrow. "And what might that be?" he asked, reaching for the box.

"Well, it was in the shop… and I happen to know that you're fantasizing about peeling a corset off of me so…"

Ichabod's eyes lit up as the deep crimson satin came into view. He looked up at Abbie, hastily pushed the box into her hands then grabbed her shoulders and turned her towards the bedroom. "Well, Darling," he drawled sexily into her ear. "What are you waiting for?"

Abbie laughed heartily as she started towards the room, stealing a glance at an expectant Ichabod over her shoulder. They were into an interesting night.

It was a good thing that she had the day off the following day.

**TBC**

_Thanks for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

**13th December**

Abbie sighed contended as she entered the land of awareness. She burrowed her face into Ichabod's arm on which her head rested as the man lay behind her. His other arm held her close and his chin rested atop her head. With her hand, she found his that rested on her stomach and entwined their fingers. She smiled as the man started moving and accommodated him as one of his legs sneaked between hers. She adjusted her position so that she was lying even closer to him and sighed once again.

"Good morning, my love," Ichabod rumbled over her head in a low, sleepy voice.

"Hm…" Abbie answered.

"Did you sleep well?" he continued as Abbie arched against his chest when his hand under hers began to move.

"Hm…"

Abbie could swear by then that the man was smiling but she had no time pondering that as suddenly her eyes shot open when Ichabod's leg that was nestled between hers started rubbing against her.

She moaned.

Ichabod was definitely smiling by then.

"Do you have any plans for the day?" he inquired.

Abbie let out a throaty laugh.

"Oh… I can tell that you have a plan," she observed, gyrating her butt against him and this time she was the one who smiled when Ichabod's breath hitched and his hand stopped its ministration on her lower abdomen, pressing into her.

"Any objections?" he asked and Abbie had to grin at the cheekiness in his tone. He can be such a tease.

She wriggled a little to be able to turn in his arms without losing much contact, then pushed on the man's shoulder and, at the first opportunity, quickly straddled his hips. Wide awake and on top of him, she rested her forearms on either side of his head and, letting her dark hair fall over them both, she claimed his mouth in a kiss that clearly answered his question but she replied nonetheless, "Not on my part."

Ichabod smiled, stroking her cheek. "Good," he whispered, pulling her back for another kiss.

Abbie just lost herself to the feeling of him between her legs, in her mouth, on her skin that became covered in goose-bumps when his large shirt disappeared from her… but a loud bang from somewhere in the background made her jump. Mood killed, she looked at Ichabod, whose hands stopped frozen on her naked torso, with wide eyes that narrowed when her sister's voice reached their ears.

"Hey, sis, Ichy," Jenny's voice rang in the silent cabin. "Rise and shine! We brought breakfast."

Under Abbie, Ichabod mouthed a stunned "We?"

"I'll kill her," Abbie hissed as she got off of Ichabod.

"I am sure she means well," Ichabod told her awkwardly as he gathered the blanket in his lap while Abbie looked for the discarded shirt. If only she could remember where it went. "Under the dresser," Ichabod helped her out then watched as Abbie pulled the garment over her head.

"And now," she said, "I go and strangle my sister and send my boss on his merry way."

"You go do that," Ichabod agreed, shifting uncomfortably. "I will stay here and…" He cleared his throat. "…pretend to sleep."

"Don't sleep too deep," Abbie grinned as she leant down to give the man a kiss and a good look at her cleavage. "I'll be back in a minute." And with that she was gone.

"Jenny, what the hell?" she stepped into the living room. "It's Sunday. Don't you have a boyfriend to harass?" she said, indicating the other person in the room. She then stopped to take a double-take.

"Katrina?"

The woman smiled sheepishly.

"Frank got called in in the dead of the night," Jenny shrugged, putting down the paper bag she had brought and opened it.

"Is that…?" as the inviting smell of sweet pastry, orange and lemon hit her nostrils, curiosity won over annoyance and Abbie walked closer to her sister, peeking into the bag.

Without an answer, Jenny just handed a plastic container to Abbie who took it eagerly and went in search of a spoon. Jenny and Katrina exchanged a knowing smile.

"Admit it that you appreciate me a little," Jenny told her sister, who looked like someone is heaven, as she dig into the panettone. Their mother used to make that special kind of Italian Christmas bread that, as opposed to the original one, was swimming in some delicious orange sauce. And the girls loved it. The problem was that Abbie'd never been able to prepare it like her mom... but Jenny was.

"A little," Abbie gave in. "The smaller, hungry part of me definitely does," she smiled, leaning against the kitchen counter.

"I know," Jenny grinned, taking in her sister's disheveled appearance. "The larger, sexually frustrated part of you is still annoyed as hell."

With her mouth full, Abbie could only narrow her eyes at her sister.

"Hey, Ichy," Jenny called out, ignoring Abbie. "If you feel up to it, breakfast is ready." Abbie groaned. "Oops," Jenny put a hand in front of her mouth. "Wrong choice of words," she laughed out not a bit repentant. "Here," she handed another container to Katrina.

"Maybe he finds it too hard to get up," Katrina commented innocently, stuffing a spoonful of panettone into her mouth. Abbie's head whipped towards her in disbelief while Jenny looked impressed. "I don't think that he will emerge from his room in the foreseeable future," she shared as she sat down by the dining table. "If I were a man, I'd wager that he's most probably pretending to sleep." She still didn't lose her innocent look while Abbie could see that Jenny was struggling to contain her laughter with her mouth full with her own share of panettone.

"Why are you here again?" Abbie asked, her annoyance seeping back.

"As I said, Frank got called in during the night. I made this panettone for him but I know how much you love it, too, so I decided to share. Anyway," she turned back to Katrina. "It's a good thing we're not in the 18th century. You don't have to be a man to bet so... I have twenty that he's taking a cold shower."

"I stand by my opinion," the redhead declared. Abbie watched on stunned as the two women put their money on the table.

That was when Ichabod appeared in the kitchen area fully clothed and wearing a pleasant smile.

"Ladies," he started as both Jenny and Katrina eyed him critically. "What a wonderful surprise," he squirmed a little when the women's attention lingered on him for too long.

"Well," Abbie broke the silence and pounced on the money on the table. "I guess we'll never know for sure," she said, grabbing the money. The women looked surprised while Ichabod watched on confused but he quickly dismissed the women's attics and walked up to Abbie, wrapping a huge bathrobe around her shoulders.

"Jennifer wished to share this wonderful dish with us," Katrina offered finally. "We spend this festive breakfast together then we will be on our way," she reassured the couple standing by the counter.

"Please, don't rush on my account," Ichabod told the women in a pleasant tone which, however, didn't fool anybody in the room. They were accustomed to disregard his awkwardness, though. "We are happy to have you."

"Great!" Jenny beamed, receiving an unimpressed look from her sister.

They actually managed to finish their breakfast before Abbie's phone rang.

"Well," she turned to the group still sitting by the table when she finished the call and addressed her sister. "It seems that since your boyfriend couldn't barge in on our Sunday morning, he came up with another way to ruin my day off."

"Our presence is requested," Ichabod concluded as he stood up.

"Just mine," Abbie grimaced, clearly upset. "You can still enjoy your Sunday."

"I can assure you that I won't be able to enjoy it knowing that you are working. I'm coming with you."

Abbie gave him a small smile. "That's what I told Irving."

* * *

"Sir?" Abbie knocked on the open door before stepping into the office of her boss, Ichabod tailing behind her.

"Mills. Crane. Take a seat." He waited until they did, then handed Abbie a folder. "Sorry for dragging you in on Sunday but as you can see we have a lot of shit to deal with at the moment... and not enough men."

"What the hell is going on out there anyway?" Abbie asked, indicating the madness that greeted them when they arrived. It seemed that there was not a single person in Sleepy Hollow who hadn't got some complaint.

"Damned if I know," Frank sighed. It was only morning but the man looked beat. "From plain harassment to burglary, thievery, murder... missing kids," he indicated the folder in Abbie's hands, "You name it, it happened."

"Amanda Johnson," Abbie opened the folder and read the name on the report.

"Went missing yesterday. Harrison's on the case and I want you to coordinate with him."

"Coordinate?"

"We've got another one this morning. Brandon Mitchell, thirteen. Hasn't been seen since Friday."

"That' almost two days," Abbie looked at him shocked.

"Lives in foster care. His guardians thought he ran away. Wouldn't be the first time. Except this time even his friends don't know anything about him. Look, Mills, I don't have to tell you how to handle a missing child case... Hell, I don't even know whether these two cases are connected but keep your eyes open. I have a bad feeling about this."

"You got it, Sir."

"And keep me in the loop."

With a final nod Abbie and Ichabod left the office.

"Hey, Bob," exiting the Captain's office, without missing a beat, Abbie walked up to an older detective who was apparently trying really hard to listen to whoever was on the other end of the phone with all the commission going on in the bullpen. The man put up a finger, asking Abbie to wait a second.

"Oh, to bloody hell," he exclaimed and slapped down the phone. "The boy at Forensics talks like a shy little girl. Couldn't make out a word through this bloody noise. Will have to drive out there myself. You talked to the Captain?"

"Yes," Abbie replied. "You met Crane, right?" Abbie asked as a way of introduction.

"Oh, yeah, your tag-along boyfriend," the man laughed good-humoredly then offered a hand to the other man. "How're you doing, boy?"

"Thank you, Sir," Ichabod accepted his hand politely. "I am quite fine. I hope your health serves just as well."

The older man laughed out as Abbie grimaced a little. "I like the lad. You don't find them on every corner these days."

"Don't I know that? So, what do you know about the case?"

"Not much. Talked to the girl's folks. Nice kid, doing well in school. No complaints. Turning fourteen next month. Probably just some teenage haze coming over her. Most probably will be home by tomorrow when she realizes that ain't nobody's going to feed her but her mama."

"A runaway, you say?"

"That's my opinion," the man shrugged. "You probably have one there, too. Know the kid, too. Found him once myself. That one's trouble," he shook his head. "But, don't take these cases lightly so... we keep looking." Abbie nodded. "It also keeps me outta that madhouse here," he laughed. "You tell me if you find something about that boy."

"I'm just on my way to talk to his foster family. I'll talk to you when we get back," Abbie told him as she turned to leave.

"It was my pleasure to meet you, Sir," Ichabod told the man at parting.

"That's a keeper there, Mills," Bob laughed once again, nodding to the couple then going on his way.

"He is a nice man," Ichabod observed as they navigated through the crowd.

"He is," Abbie agreed. "He used to hang out with Corbin."

"A fine crowd, I'd say," Ichabod noted as a compliment as he and Abbie gathered their coats then left the Station.

When they arrived at the boy's address, they found a bunch of kids playing in the front yard. They were well bundled up in warm clothes, still Abbie wondered how they could disregard the biting cold.

"It's wonderful, isn't it?" Ichabod asked, leaning closer to her. Abbie threw him a questioning look, hoping that her nose wouldn't freeze. "Children's ability to forget just about anything while they are partaking in joyful activities."

"Good for them," Abbie quickly made her way to the front door, flexing her already aching fingers before knocking. Her fingers didn't touch the door, though, before it flung open and a tired looking woman appeared.

She gave them an apprehensive smile. "You're the police?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I'm Lieutenant Mills and this is my partner, Ichabod Crane."

"You found him?"

"No, Ma'am. We're here to ask a few questions. If it is all right with you."

"Yes, of course," the woman mumbled. "Just let me get the children. They'd been out long enough. If one didn't pay attention, they'd freeze into a popsicle without noticing it." Abbie stepped out of the woman's way while Ichabod gave her an understanding smile. "Children! Come on, come in," Abbie watched as the woman tried to get the kids' attention in vain. "Hot chocolate is ready," she exclaimed finally and Abbie had to laugh how quick the kids were to get inside after that. As they filed into the house, she noticed how young they were. She guessed neither of them could be older than ten.

When the kids were finally inside, Abbie and Ichabod made their way into the house, too, and, stumbling over the discarded shoes, they were ushered into the kitchen.

Abbie glanced around the house with an uneasy look. She didn't like coming to places like this - it brought back too many bad memories. The feeling of abandonment still haunted her - even in her present life when she had a nice home and people loving her, friends and family - and seeing those children sharing in her predicament always brought her memories in the forefront of her mind.

But there was something different about this house, Abbie observed as she sat by the dining table. It was clean, well looked after - just like the children. Just by watching them for a few moments, Abbie knew that whatever those kids had gone through in their short lives, it wasn't plaguing them constantly. They looked happy... they looked loved.

"If I may observe, Mrs. Clark, you are doing an excellent job with these children. They are really well-behaved," Ichabod gave words to Abbie's thoughts while she watched the kids, sitting in the living room, drinking their hot beverages.

"Thank you," the woman smiled meekly.

"Is it only Brandon you have problem with?" Abbie turned to the woman.

"Yes," she nodded. "Brandon is… not an easy child. He got here only a year ago but it is not a good place for him. We've already got five kids – none of them older than eight or nine. He just couldn't fit in, you know. And he just wouldn't trust anybody."

"Has anything unusual happened lately? Did you argue?"

"Did we argue?" the woman asked with a sad chuckle. "It feels like we didn't do anything else."

"How is your husband handling it?" Abbie inquired but she didn't get an answer as, in that moment, the front door burst open and a bulky man with unruly hair and beard entered the house. The kids were on their feet in an instant to greet the man and by the time he entered the kitchen, children were hanging from his huge form like from a tree.

"A little help, please," the man laughed, addressing his wife through the happy screaming of the kids but when his eyes fell on the visitors, his smile faltered. "All right, little monsters," his demeanor became more serious but his tone didn't lose from its warmth. "Why don't you go and see what I brought?"

Like magic, the kids let him go and dashed towards the door. "And don't forget the coats," he called after them.

"I just brought them in," his wife looked at him with exasperation as she stood and walked to the window to keep an eye on the children who stood around the truck on the driveway staring up at a huge pine tree.

"Mark," Mrs. Clark started after a moment. "This is Lieutenant Mills and Mr. Crane. They're here about Brendon."

"Of course," the man nodded to the two guests. "You need anything, you just ask," he told them. "We'll do anything to know him back here safe. That weather outside is no child's play. You out there long enough without knowing how to keep you warm, you surely freeze to death." Mrs. Clark actually shuddered at the thought. "I told him so before he went out to play with his pals but he wouldn't listen. I told him to be back before nightfall. That would've given him four hours… but no, that just wasn't enough. I was so angry at him," he said, starting to get frustrated, but more with himself than the boy as Abbie could tell. "When he wasn't at home by the time we got to bed, I knew something was wrong. I told Lisa to stay with the kids and I went out to look for him. I spent most of the last two days searching for the kid but nothing."

Well, the man certainly managed to answer Abbie's question to Mrs. Clark – he really cared for that boy.

"Where did they go?" she asked.

"The woods are not so far from here," Mrs. Clark supplied. "He liked to go there."

"Thank you… to both of you," Abbie said as she stood, Ichabod following suit. "We'll let you know if we find anything. And hang on in there."

"That was fast," Ichabod observed as soon as they stepped outside. "You do not think that the boy ran away."

"No."

"Maybe he got lost... or injured."

"Maybe... But why couldn't Mr. Clark find him? My money's on kidnapping," Abbie stated with conviction. "We just have to prove it."

Ichabod nodded in agreement as they got into the car. "But first we go for a walk in the nearby forest," he guessed, turning to Abbie, who nodded.

The northern forest was a popular spot for those who liked to hang out outdoors. There were good tracks and nice resting places. But it was a huge forest. Abbie and Ichabod did a round walking around the places young kids like to hang out even those one where they aren't really allowed but like to frequent nonetheless but they found nothing.

As time passed without any progress, Ichabod could feel Abbie getting more tense. She became less chatty and her movements had an edge to them. He watched the slow transformation but couldn't do anything about it. He saw the change in her when it turned out that Brandon Mitchell was in the foster system and he knew that the fact made her even more determined to help the boy but Ichabod feared that her stubborn determination would impair her judgement. His fear turned out to be justified, too, when she seemed to have decided without any conclusive evidence that the child had been abducted. But however it might be, until her arguments were just the slightest bit reasonable, he would support her.

It was already dark by the time they got back to the Station where the unusual crowd hadn't ebbed a bit since late morning. Abbie looked over the buzzing mass of people then sighed, turning to her companion.

"Look," she started, rubbing her temple. "There is no need for both of us to hang out here. I go and talk to Harrison, you go ahead and enjoy your Sunday. I'll get a ride with one of the guys in patrol a little later."

"And what do you suggest I do with my Sunday without you?"

"I don't know," Abbie threw up her hands impatiently. "Get a book, have a long bathe... make cookies."

"All right," Ichabod finally gave in, sensing that Abbie was in no mood for arguing. "I will wait for you at home. Do not stay too late," he said, kissing her forehead.

"See you soon," Abbie gave him a weak, apologetic smile before Ichabod curtseyed. "Go," she laughed out and hushed him away.

**TBC**

_Thanks for reading!_


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

**14th December**

The next morning, Ichabod found Abbie sitting by her desk at the Station deeply engrossed in reading the papers spread in front of her.

"Good morning, love," he greeted her gently, putting a hand on her shoulder but he stepped back surprised when Abbie practically jumped out of her chair.

"What the fu..." she exclaimed flying out of her seat, simultaneously turning around and pulling her earplugs out of her ear. "Crane," she breathed. "You scared the shit out of me."

"I apologize for startling you. I did not realize that you can't hear me."

"You kidding me? I couldn't hear you without these, either. It's some special kind of madhouse in here today."

"I am sorry anyway," he smiled at her in a way that, in turn, put a smile on Abbie's face, too.

"Don't be," Abbie ran her hand over the length of his upper arm. "Are those doughnut holes?" she asked when her eyes fell on the paper bag in his hand.

Instead of an answer, Ichabod offered her the bag with another smile of his own, this one being decidedly smugger. "And coffee, too," Abbie hushed as she took hold of the bag and leant against her desk.

"And I brought you these, too," he added when Abbie wasn't too occupied by her food and produced another bag. "Clothes."

Abbie stared at him for a moment before pushing herself away from the desk and, standing on the tip of her toes, she claimed Ichabod's lips in a slow, lazy kiss. She smiled into the kiss as she felt the man's surprise - neither one of them being big on PDA - and practically grinned when he started reciprocating the kiss.

"Good morning, my love," Ichabod greeted her for the second time that morning when they pulled away, but this time, he got a genuine smile in return.

"Morning," Abbie purred before pecking his lips and turning back to her breakfast.

"What kept you away from our bed last night?"

"After I sent you home, I talked to Harrison," she explained. "We sat down and went over everything about the two missing kids. Patrol's looking for them but Harrison told me that we should close the cases as children running away."

"But he told you that he would not dismiss other possibilities without good reason."

"And he didn't," Abbie defended her older colleague. "CSIs hadn't found anything conclusive in either of the cases and I just couldn't make my case. Case's closed."

"And yet you spent your night working on it."

"It kept bugging me that we were so fast to dump the kids' cases as runaways. And I do know that every sign points in that direction… and I also know that it was the logical thing to do but…"

"You have one of those famous gut feelings."

"Yes," Abbie sighed as Ichabod took in the state of her desk.

"You tried to look for some common features between the two children," he stated and Abbie nodded. "Do you find anything?" he asked, taking a folder into his hand.

"Nothing," Abbie's shoulders slumped. "In fact, they couldn't be any more different," she finished her coffee.

"And yet, you are still not convinced about the accuracy of your assessment." In lack of an answer, Abbie just gave him a tired look. Ichabod sighed, taking her hand. "Don't you think that your past experience that you share with this boy is why you are not ready to let the case go?" His voice was not reproachful but understanding.

Abbie was just about to answer when a loud commission broke their silent conversation. They turned towards the noise and watched as a pair of uniforms practically dragged in a small, tubby man. He wasn't a happy camper and he gave voice to that in a colorful way, but the uniforms weren't too overjoyed themselves.

"All I did was taking a leak," the man cried indignantly.

"Yeah," agreed one of the uniforms then added, "On the street."

"On Santa's shoes," pointed out the other one with an unamused face that told Abbie that the man had seen weirder things since his shift started.

"Merry Christmas," Abbie muttered, turning back to Ichabod but all she saw was his back as the man walked up to the news board, studiously inspecting a large sheet there.

"What is it?" Ichabod inquired when Abbie walked up to him.

"Oh," she breathed when she noticed on what his gaze was fixed. "They're putting it up late this year," she observed.

"I would certainly concur if only I knew what this 'Karaoke Night' entails," Ichabod observed. "From the moniker 'annual', I assume that this is a frequent occurrence."

"Sorry. And it is. That's the way we celebrate Christmas with the guys... you know, there's booze and music... and singing..."

"Oh, a social gathering. How splendid!"

"Not the adjective I'd use," Abbie muttered but Ichabod ignored her.

"You wish to attend, right?" he asked in an excited tone that, had Abbie not been distracted by everything that was going on, would clearly indicated his own eagerness to attend.

"Sure," Abbie nodded. "It's actually fun. And just the thing I need right now."

"Then let's make sure that we wrap up the cases till Friday," Harrison appeared behind the pair.

"You're not closing the Johnson case?" Abbie asked, referring back to their conversation the day before when Harrison decided to close the missing girl's case, leaving it for patrol to look for the runaway girl. He suggested that Abbie should do the same with the Mitchell kid.

"What can I say?" the man shrugged. "You're a really convincing lady, Mills. You say it's kidnapping, I'll take your word for it."

"But I don't have any evidence."

"Then let's go and find some," he indicated to Abbie to get started. "You coming British boy?"

Abbie looked up at Ichabod, who nodded his head for Abbie to lead the way.

* * *

"Hey," a paper cup appeared in Abbie's vision and when she looked up, her eyes met with that of Detective Dennis Ryan, another one of Corbin's old friends. "Thought you might need a little pick-me-up. There is enough sugar in that to keep a whole town go for a week."

Abbie beamed up at the older detective and reached for the cup. She was indeed having a shitty day... again. She, Harrison and Ichabod spent the morning running around town. talking to kids and adults who knew either Amanda or Brandon but they still had no connection between the two kids. All they could find was a couple of new evidence that may or may not tell something about the seemingly unexplainable disappearance of the kids.

"So, I heard that you're not ready to give up on the Mitchell boy," the man started and Abbie looked at him questioningly. "What?" Ryan chuckled. "You think that your British beau doesn't have a social life?"

"As if I hadn't got enough problems without him hanging out with you guys."

"I choose to ignore this comment," the man laughed. "Anyway, you hang in there, kid. If you have a feeling that something's up then something's up. And Harrison's backing you up, you know that."

"Yeah," Abbie sighed. Not to mention that Captain Irving seemed to share her uneasiness about the case so she was good to go. Too bad it wasn't helping any that poor boy. "But I need more than a gut feeling."

"You'll get there."

"How's your case?" Abbie turned the table on the detective. "I heard you got a mutilated body." Ryan gave her the same questioning look that she'd been giving him and Abbie couldn't help laughing. "What?" she asked. "You think that your work-wife's got only eyes for you?"

"I'd like to think that," the man joked.

"You look beat, Dennis. That bad, huh?"

"We've got another body this morning. Same MO, same neighborhood but no apparent connection between the victims. You know if I hadn't known better, I'd say that a large cat's on the loose attacking random people."

"A cat, you say?"

"But seeing that there is possibly no cat that would do such damage, I'm stuck with doing overtime and throwing back Christmas smoothies."

"Mills," Frank stepped out of his office. "Where's Harrison?"

"At the forensics lab."

"Get him. We've got another one. Mom's in the conference room."

"You've got to be kidding me," Abbie told no one in particular, seeing that Frank had already returned to his office.

"You'll figure this one out, Abbie," Ryan told her. "And you'll bring the kids back."

"Yeah, yeah... And all that would go so much easier if I could only hear my own thoughts," she practically shouted the last part, suddenly feeling really annoyed by all the chaos at the Station.

"Get Bob, then take a moment and drink your smoothie," Ryan suggested before returning to his desk. "You need to have a clear head. It seems that you do have a series of kidnappings."

* * *

It was after 6 p.m. that Abbie found herself on the way to the Archives to collect Ichabod, who had retired for the day to read, and head home. She was beat and finally ready to admit that there was nothing more that she could do till the next day.

She waited for Harrison then, together, they went to talk to Billy Connelly's mother. Poor woman was distraught, blaming herself for the disappearance of her five years old boy. She was a single mom, she told them, struggling to make ends meet. This of course meant two jobs and crazy hours that only added up to a stressed out mom who was quick to snap.

She loved her son, she couldn't stress enough. And, really, she shouldn't have, either - it was obvious for both Abbie and Harrison. Much like that fact that the woman was bone tired. She kept rambling about everything she thought she'd done wrong... how she shouldn't have gotten so angry just because Billy didn't want to eat his dinner.

After trying to reassure the woman, Abbie and Harrison went to her house to take a look while CSIs were working.

Now that the photo of the boy had been sent out to patrol and any evidence that was considered pertinent had been sent to the lab, Abbie had nothing left to do than wait.

She needed to clear her head if she wanted to find a connection between the three missing kids and prove that they'd been indeed kidnapped.

"Where's Katrina?" was the first thing she asked when she looked around the large room after entering the Archives.

"Went home to decorate," Jenny replied without looking up from her laptop.

"Hasn't she done that already?"

"Oh yeah," Jenny grinned, eyes still fixed on the screen. "But she went by one of those Christmas themed shops and she realized she hadn't even really begun." She finally looked up at her sister. "She practically bought up the shop."

"Where did she even get the money for that?" Abbie asked and she could hear Ichabod snicker in the background.

"I may have been there with her," Jenny revealed.

"And where did you get the money?"

Jenny just shrugged so Abbie had to do with a cough from Ichabod that almost sounded like "the Captain".

"You spent my boss' money on Christmas decoration?" she looked at her sister wide-eyed.

"And not a little of it," Ichabod observed bemused as he abandoned his book and joined the sisters.

"It was money well spent," Jenny declared.

"I somehow doubt it," Abbie muttered. "What are you doing?" she asked as she peeked over the shoulder of her sister to take a better look at the computer screen. "Thinking about buying a cat? That's a big step in a relationship… having a creature together to look after…" she teased.

"There very well be no money to take care of a creature," Ichabod quipped and exchanged an amused look with his girlfriend.

"Very funny," Jenny kept scrolling the page with an intense look. Abbie regarded her for a while before it downed on her.

"I know that look," she realized as Ichabod excused himself when his phone began to ring. "You really think that cat wasn't an ordinary house cat."

"I'm sure of it,' Jenny leant back to look at her sister. "There is not one cat in here that comes close to that monster."

"That one kind of looks like a monster," Abbie pointed at the screen at the picture of a skinny hairless cat." She sighed when Jenny didn't appreciate the joke. "It was dark, Jenny. Maybe it was a dog."

"With those eyes. It was a cat, I tell you."

"All right then." She throw up her hands in the air. "If you want to spend your night hunting for a cat that doesn't exist, be my guest. I have a boyfriend to spend the night with. And, as a matter of fact, so do you."

"Well, it's not as if Frank's coming home… again," Jenny muttered bitterly, mostly to herself.

"Good night, Jenny," Abbie petted her on the shoulder then went to look for Ichabod.

"Night," Jenny answered already distracted, then her head shot up as a smile formed on her lips. "Hunt…" she said out loud contemplatively.

**TBC**

_Thanks for reading!_


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

**15th December**

"It's a shame we won't have white Christmas," Abbie lamented to Ichabod, pressing her freezing hands on the hot paper cup she was holding as the pair of them walked towards the Station.

"Indeed," Ichabod agreed, walking next to her with straight back, hands clasped behind his back. "This weather is most curious. We used to have snow all winter long. I remember my parents couldn't get us children into the house during winter time when I was but a young lad."

"We haven't got real snow for ever," Abbie said, turning her attention to the patrol car that had just passed them and greeted her with its sirens. "You know global warming and all," she waved to the officers in the car.

"Not everything is lost," Ichabod smiled, gently steering her out of the way of a couple of running kids. Abbie steadied her hold on her cup. "I found an app on my smart phone that claims to be displaying the chance, translated into percentage, of having a white Christmas. Apparently we have still more than 70 percent of it."

"That's reassuring," Abbie smiled up at Ichabod amused but suddenly her attention was pulled towards the commission in front of the Station. She didn't have time to process the happenings because she was knocked off her feet. As if in slow motion, she could see Ichabod reaching towards her as she was falling backwards while a figure pressed through between the two of them and she could feel the hot content of her cup spilling on her coat and burning her hands. Suddenly she felt really pissed and as soon as Ichabod got a hold of her, stopping her from falling, she took a glance towards the Station, shook off Ichabod's supporting hands and darted towards the dark figure. She all but flew upon him, tackling him on the ground then swiftly handcuffed him.

"Not so fast, buddy," she told him, pulling him off the ground. "I think someone's looking for you," she pushed him not so gently towards her running colleague.

"Look at that Hank," Abbie called to one of the running uniforms who came to a stop by them as she pushed the handcuffed man in front of her. "I think I found something you lost."

"Thanks, Abbie," the same man who had greeted her from the car earlier looked grateful but embarrassed as the man was handed over to her. "I owe you one."

"Well, you definitely owe me a coffee," Abbie informed him, indicating her coat that was covered with her morning coffee.

"You got it," Hank nodded with a smile then nudged the man and started pushing him towards the station. Before the man turned, though, he looked at Abbie with a devious smile that made the woman halt for a moment.

"It never ceases to amaze me how much strength such a small body can possess," Ichabod walked up to Abbie with a proud smile that turned into a frown when Abbie failed to react to his presence. "Is everything all right?"

Ichabod's concerned voiced pulled her out of her stunned state. She shook her head and turned to the man.

"I think I'm imagining things," she admitted. "I could swear that the man's eyes glowed read. I really need my coffee," she stated then pushed a little on Ichabod's upper arm and started walking towards the building. "I'm beginning to sound like Jenny."

"What do you mean?" he asked over the heads of a couple of people that got between them as soon as they entered the station that was still swarming with people.

Abbie waited with the answer until she got to her desk. She took of her ruined coat then, when Ichabod reached her, she turned to him. "The other day," she started, "When we were out shopping, she told me she saw a strange cat - a demon cat," she laughed tiredly.

"Do you think that there is demon activity behind all of this?"

"Don't you start," Abbie warned her boyfriend. "No demon activity," she declared with conviction because, frankly, if there was any demon involved, they were in deep shit. And that just wouldn't do right before Christmas. "People tend to go crazy during the holidays," she supplied even though she knew that the present state of affairs was a new kind of crazy even for the holiday season. "No demon's needed for that."

"Then how do you explain the incidents? The demon cat? The red eyes?"

"As I said, I need my coffee. And there is no demon cat. Jenny just wants it to be. She's going crazy waiting for the other shoe to drop. I don't..." she looked at Ichabod pointedly when he was about to interject.

"All right then," Ichabod finally relented. "Let me get you a coffee then," he offered and Abbie smiled up at him.

"Thank you," she stroked his arm then sat down to get to work.

By the time he was back, Abbie was putting on her coffee stained coat. "Are you heading out?" Ichabod asked her, letting go of the paper cup in his hand when Abbie reached for it.

"I'll go and talk to Amanda's parents, too. I know that Harrison's already talked to them but I want to talk to them, too. Maybe they can tell me something new. I know I'm missing something," she told him in one breath that made Ichabod's eyebrow rose in amusement. "You coming?" she called behind her, already halfway through the crowd.

They'd made a detour to the cabin for Abbie to pick up a clean coat but in an hour they were sitting with Mr. and Mrs. Johnson in their house.

"She's such a good kid," the mother cried. "So well-behaved and really smart, you know," she wiped her eyes. "Oh, God," fresh tears began to fall on her face and her husband put his arm around her solemnly. "We were so angry when we last talked. She was in a hurry to her dance class but I have to ask her to go and pick up her sister from school. She left in a huff and the next thing I know they're calling me from Betsy's school because she hadn't been picked up and Mandy is nowhere to be found."

As it was expected, they were beyond upset and worried for their child but, unfortunately, they couldn't really say anything new except for the fact that Amanda was not happy about being roped into babysitting.

Without anything useful to go on, Abbie left the Johnsons feeling frustrated. Ichabod hung back, feeling the tension rolling off of the woman in waves... again. He wanted to help her but he had no idea how. All he could do was to give her some space so, as soon as they reached the Station, he retired to the Archives.

To his surprise, he found the room empty. With an amused smile, he guessed that Katrina was still preoccupied with decorating. He didn't even dare to guess what the other Mills sister was up to when she wasn't spending her time in the Archives.

He decided to use the silence to brush up on his demon knowledge but as he sat there with a large book in hand, he couldn't help his thoughts returning to Abbie.

He didn't even turn a page when the opening of the door snapped him out of his thoughts. When he looked up, he saw Abbie walking towards him and he watched with a confused frown as the woman crouched down in front of him.

"I am sorry," she started. "I am sorry for being such a bitch earlier."

"I can assure you, my love, that there is no need for apologizing. I'm afraid your visit here was in vain. I would never fault you for caring for the victims of crimes... especially when they are but defenseless children."

"Thank you," Abbie gave him a loving smile. "But I didn't come in vain."

"How so?"

"I came to collect you. It's time to go home."

"Is it, really?" His confusion grew until he looked at the darkened windows. "Oh," he breathed.

"Don't worry," Abbie smiled at him. "It's just after four. But Harrison kicked me out so... let's go."

"Very well," Ichabod relented. "But I am afraid that I have to ask you to stop by one of those take-out places. I have to confess that I missed my lunch."

Abbie actually laughed at that while grabbing for her phone that began to ring. Ichabod got in his coat while she answered, then looked at her expectantly. "It was Bob," Abbie finally said, her shoulders sagging. "They found Brandon," she informed Ichabod in a sad voice that told Ichabod loud and clear all the parts that Abbie had left unsaid.

"I am sorry, Abbie," he told her in a solemn voice, pulling her close for a quick hug, before they left for the forest to the north of Sleepy Hollow where Brandon Mitchell's body was found.

* * *

The cold was biting but Abbie didn't take heed of it as she strode straight to the ME who was kneeling by a small body. When she caught sight of the boy, she stopped and swallowed hard. Ichabod came to a stop behind her as well and she felt his hand seeking out hers and giving it a encouraging squeeze before letting it go once again.

The contact was quick but it was all Abbie needed.

"What do we know?" her steps were once again determined as she closed the distance between the ME and her.

"Not much. My guess," the coroner looked up at her. "He's been out for far too long. In this weather, it can be fatal. But I can tell you more after the autopsy."

"He's missing a shoe," Abbie observed as the coroner took the body. Ichabod sighed, worried. "He's covered with scratches."

"Must've got scared in the woods and started to run," Harrison observed as he returned from sweeping through the nearby area. "Sorry, Abbie."

Abbie nodded sternly. "What about Amanda and Billy?" she managed to get out the question in a steady voice. That was it - Brandon's case was exactly what it looked like from the beginning.

"We keep looking for them," the older man reassured her. "No kid disappears from the face of Earth and those ones did just that. Something's not right there, I know... and we'll find out what."

All Abbie gave as an answer was a nod as the two men exchanged a look over her head. "Go home, Abbie," Harrison petted her on the shoulder. "CSI's working here. Won't be until the morning that we get the preliminary. No more we can do here."

"The Clarks..."

"I go talk to them. Don't have to worry about that," the older man reassured her.

For a long time no reply came from Abbie, then, abruptly, she turned to Ichabod. "You all right with catching a ride with Bob?" she asked and without waiting for an answer, she started towards her car.

"I guess you're stuck with me, boy," Harrison observed as the two of them watched the retreating form of the petite woman.

"She is going to talk to Mr. and Mrs. Clark," Ichabod stated with a worried frown.

"She's a though kid," was all Harrison said before he himself started towards his own car. Ichabod followed him with a heavy sigh.

* * *

After going to the Clarks, Abbie hadn't returned to the Station. However worried that made Ichabod, he didn't try to find her. He deemed it best to let her cool off – as they say it – wherever she was, and, instead, he returned to the Archives to read a little.

Time flew by and it was already past 8 when he realized he should head home to Abbie - that is if she was there. He took a detour to the Station but only found Detectives Ryan and O'Donnell, working there murder cases in relative silence. It seemed that even the complaining crowd that had taken up residence at the Sleepy Hollow PD ebbed a little and the Station was almost strangely empty.

He exchanged a couple of words with the detectives, asked Irving, who was still in his office, if he needed anything, then he headed home.

He found Abbie lying on the couch, nursing a bottle of his favorite rum. He winced then went to the couch, gently lifted her legs and settled down, placing them on his lap. He regarded her for a moment, noticing that, though the bottle was open, there was no liquor missing from it. He raised a questioning eyebrow.

"Wanted to drink this whole shit away," she admitted. "But felt bad about it even before I'd have started. Pathetic."

"Drink this then," he offered her the thermos his hand was clutching. "Coffee."

For a moment Abbie's eyes darted between the bottle in her hands and the thermos of hot coffee as if debating which one to choose but then she shrugged and reached for the thermos. Taking it, she tugged the bottle of rum between her legs, steadying it. Ichabod frowned, though, when, instead of lifting the thermos to her lips, she took off its lid and his eyes went wide when she reached for the bottle and poured a generous amount of rum into the hot liquid. Soon, he found the bottle trust into his hand and Abbie looking at him expectantly.

"Cheers," she said then started sipping the spiked coffee.

Ichabod took a swing from the bottle then placed it on the coffee table. They sat in silence for a little while which Ichabod quickly found uncomfortable. He just couldn't let Abbie sit there in misery. He looked around the room and his eyes fell on a thin book with red covers.

"What is this?" he asked, reaching for the book.

Abbie, pulled out of her thoughts, looked at him puzzled but when she realized what Ichabod was asking, a small smile appeared on her face. That gave Ichabod a little satisfaction and encouraged him to continue in his pursuit.

"That's a children's book."

"Ah... I saw some of those," he recalled, turning the book in his hands. "How curious that they make books for babes."

"It's called  _How the Grinch Stole Christmas!_ "

"A grinch?" Ichabod looked at Abbie curiously but unbelievingly. "Stole Christmas?" He apparently found the idea absurd. Abbie giggle, putting down the thermos and sitting closer to Ichabod.

"Not a grinch," she corrected him. "The Grinch," she indicated the cover of the book.

"Well, he's quite a strange looking fellow," Ichabod observed, regarding the cover of the book. "Why is he wearing that ridiculous suit of St. Nicholas?"

"Let's find out," Abbie suggested, leaning back next to him expectantly. She looked so much better than when he'd got home - most probably thanked to that strange book... and maybe the rum - that Ichabod opened the book without any further questions.

"How the Grinch Stole Christmas!" he began to read. "Every Who down in Who-ville liked Christmas a lot..." he started but quickly looked at Abbie with brows furrowed with confusion.

"Go on," Abbie told him and Ichabod complied dubiously.

"But the Grinch, who lived just north of Who-ville, did not. The Grinch hated Christmas! The whole Christmas season! Now, please don't ask why. No one quite knows the reason. It could be his head wasn't screwed on just right. It could be, perhaps, that his shoes were too tight. But I think that the most likely reason of all, may have been that his heart was two sizes too small," he finished the line with evident incredulity seeping into his voice but Abbie's pleased look didn't let him stop. "Whatever the reason, his heart or his shoes, He stood there on Christmas Eve, hating the Whos, staring down from his cave with a sour, Grinchy frown, at the warm lighted windows below in their town. For he knew every Who down in Whoville beneath, was busy now, hanging a mistletoe wreath. 'And they're hanging their sto..'."

"No, no, no," Abbie stopped him, sitting up a little to get the man's attention. "You're doing it wrong. You have to use his voice."

"I do know how to read a book," Ichabod raised an eyebrow. "And now if you don't mind…" Abbie made a gesture to go on and Ichabod cleared his throat. "And they're hanging their stockings," he tried again but all he got was Abbie's vigorously shaking her head. "May I inquire what the problem is?" Ichabod asked indignantly.

"You should snarl with a sneer," Abbie pointed out. "That's how the Grinch's talking."

"And pray do tell me how you know that."

"Everybody knows that. Listen," Abbie sat up with a straight back. "And they're hanging their stockings," she used her best Grinchy voice. Ichabod raised a bemused eyebrow. "See, that's how it is done."

"Very well," Ichabod begrudgingly gave in. "You can be my Grinch if you wish," he offered.

"Okay," she jumped on the idea enthusiastically so Ichabod turned back to the book with a satisfied smile and listened as Abbie continued, apparently knowing the text by heart. "Tomorrow is Christmas! It's practically here!" she exclaimed and Ichabod chuckled before getting back to reading.

"Then he growled, with his Grinch fingers nervously drumming," his eyebrows climbed up when suddenly, he could feel Abbie's fingers drumming on his thigh as she moved to nestle herself next to him.

"I must find a way to keep Christmas from coming," she continued as they shared a playful smile before Ichabod pulled her close.

Ichabod was quickly warming up to the story, even though he found most of it quite absurd. But he guessed that as long as it put a smile on the woman's face next to him, he would read anything.

"Well," he said, closing the book when the story came to an end. "It was certainly..."

"Cute?" Abbie supplied and Ichabod looked down at her with raised eyebrows that spoke of his amusement.

"If you wish to call this story that then let it be," he told her. "Let's call it cute."

"You didn't like it," Abbie accused him with a voice full of laughter.

For a moment, Ichabod looked sheepish but he quickly recovered and pulled Abbie with him when he moved to lay on the couch. "It made you laugh so I liked it pretty much," he said finally, placing a kiss on the crown of Abbie's head as she nestled into his chest.

"Thank you," Abbie's voice was soft as she sighed contentedly.

As an answer, Ichabod squeezed her gently, savoring the peace that settled over them. That was until something occured to him.

"Do you think we can go and obtain some decoration for the tree tomorrow?" he broke the silence, regarding their still bare Christmas tree.

**TBC**

_Thanks for reading!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

_Hello there. I hope you're enjoying this story..._

* * *

**16th December**

That day, Abbie managed to go home in a reasonable time and she was in a considerably better spirit than the day before. Patrol had found Amanda earlier that day. She was a little battered and not slightly frightened but the doctors at the hospital told Abbie that she was going to be all right.

What baffled Abbie was that the girl couldn't stop saying 'I'm sorry' until they sedated her. Whether it was because she'd run away or because of something else was still up for debate. One thing was sure - CSIs didn't found any evidence that anybody else had been around the western woods where Amanda was found.

In any case, she and Harrison agreed to take another look at the case the following day when they could hopefully talk to the girl, too, and find out what had really happened... or whether she knew something about Billy.

Until then Abbie was off the clock and ready to spend some quality time with Ichabod.

Her already good mood just improved when she entered the cabin. A huge, amused smile spread across her face when she saw her eighteenth-century boyfriend. With his back to her, Ichabod was standing in front of the fireplace, concentrating on the smart phone in his hands... and he was singing.

"You have a beautiful voice," she observed stunned. "I didn't know that you can sing... or that you like to sing."

"It was one of the most popular past time in my era," Ichabod turned around with an expression that was half indignant, half sheepish.

"Of course, it was," Abbie smiled, discarding of her scarf and mittens. "So what are you doing?"

"Well, of course, I am preparing for that much anticipated karaoke night. As I understand, that is the occasion when people gather together to sing."

At that moment, Abbie realized that Ichabod was expecting some kind of gathering that was popular in his days. Oh, was he in for a surprise! But one thing remained a question, though. "Why are you singing 'Christmas Conga'?"

"Miss Jenny was kind enough to enlighten me about the nature of the songs sung at these events so I decided to broaden my horizon. But I have to admit that I'm deeply disappointed in the assortment of Christmas carols today. Funky, funky Christmas?" He made a funny face. "It is really disheartening."

"Hey, as long as you don't start singing Justin Bieber songs, I think you're good."

"I don't think I heard of that gentleman."

Abbie snickered at that while she got off her coat. "And you're better off because of it. But, hey, don't be so upset," she told him. "There are good Christmas songs today and many of the old carols are alive as well."

"Really?" Hope shone in his eyes that Abbie found absolutely adorable. "I didn't meet any of them," he indicated the smartphone in his hand.

"Well, from what I hear, you managed to find a worst songs ever collection," she pointed out with an amused arch in her eyebrows.

"It is exceedingly difficult to navigate this internet," Ichabod defended himself. "Would you be so kind, please, to show me to some of the old songs?" he asked, offering his phone to Abbie.

"I can do better than that," Abbie grinned up at him, getting out of her shoes. She watched as Ichabod looked at her curiously and smiled as she walked up to him to greet the man properly. She kissed him slowly, lazily. "Wait here," she instructed when they pulled apart, then made her way to their bedroom and promptly returned with a case that, Ichabod noted amused, was as tall as she. She laid it on the floor then opened it.

"What is this?"

"An electric piano."

"A piano? In that case?" he asked skeptically and looked over her shoulder curiously as Abbie opened the case and watched with interest as she put together the strange device she claimed was a piano.

"Listen to this," Abbie smiled up at Ichabod, settling on the arm of the couch, and her fingers began to dance on the keyboard. Ichabod watched and listened captivated as the tunes of one of his old favorites, "The Holy and the Ivy", flew through the air.

"This is remarkable," Ichabod exclaimed excitedly. "The melody is somewhat strange but it is the same song my mother used to sing." Abbie couldn't help the grin, seeing Ichabod's mirth. "Do you happen to know the Coventry Carol? Or is it completely forgotten today?"

Abbie didn't answer but placed her hands over the keys and, to Ichabod's utmost wonder, the sad tunes of the centuries old song filled the air accompanied by Abbie's sweet voice.

There were actually tears in Ichabod's eyes by the time the song came to an end.

"I wish I had my flute with me," he remarked in awe as Abbie's voice died away, and that reminded Abbie of the fact that he could play, too.

"You can always join me," she offered with a smile. "What about... Snow Lay on the Ground? That's an old one, too, right?"

"I think I know which one you're talking about. By all means..." And once again, piano music sounded but this time, Ichabod's deeper voice complemented Abbie's. He sounded a little unsure at first, given that the tunes were a little different from that of he'd know but he got the hang of it by the second verse.

They sang for quite some time, mostly sticking to the old classics Ichabod knew by heart. For most of them, he had to learn a new tune but he was enjoying himself nonetheless. But Abbie took the opportunity to show him some of the better modern Christmas songs and some adaptations of the old ones in different genres, and Ichabod finally conceded that there were indeed good carols in this century, too.

Only Abbie's grumbling stomach made an end to the festive joy and they relocated to the kitchen. But not before a last lingering glance from Ichabod towards the piano. "Please," he asked Abbie. "Don't put away this electronic device."

"I wouldn't dream of it," Abbie's laughter was merry.

During preparing dinner, Abbie couldn't stop singing to herself and the words of "Santa Clause is Coming to Town" floated in the air.

"He sees you when you're sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good so be good for goodness' sake. You'd better watch out, you'd better not cry..."

"Oh, my goodness," Ichabod interrupted Abbie with a dumbstruck look.

"What?" Abbie turned to him from the stove.

"I think we have just solved our case," the man declared with conviction while Abbie looked at him as if he'd gone mad. "I cannot believe that we hadn't seen it sooner. It was in front of us the whole time," he ranted.

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"It's your Santa Clause."

"You're saying that Santa's kidnapping the naughty kids."

"Tell me it's not possible," Ichabod challenged and Abbie winced.

"I wish I could. Still, it's a stupid idea."

"Fair enough," Ichabod shrugged. "Can't imagine the jolly old man snatching unsuspecting children, can we?"

"Nope," Abbie laughed at Ichabod's expression. "He's definitely one of the good guys."

"Then his elves. What about his elves?"

"Oh, those cute little guys? No way."

"Well, in certain cultures they are neither cute... nor little," Ichabod observed. "On the contrary, in many Medieval texts they are depicted as monstrous and harmful. Fully capable of harming children."

"No, just no. Not the Christmas elves," Abbie shook her head as she watched Ichabod standing up from the table and stealing up to her. "They're making toys for children, for God's sake."

"Or..." Ichabod continued as he slowly neared her, "in other cultures, they are said to be sexually attractive and able to seduce human beings."

"Seduce, you say?" Abbie blinked up at Ichabod, biting on her lower lip, as the man stopped right in front of her.

"Yes," the man nodded, putting his hands on Abbie's hipbones, caressing them. "Maybe I should keep a better eye on you in case these creatures are running around town, too."

"With that craziness out there, I wouldn't be surprised," Abbie chuckled then became contemplative. "I wonder whether they, too, wear striped stockings. They are hot," she half shrieked, half laughed through the last word as Ichabod suddenly hoisted her up and placed her on the kitchen counter, stepping between her legs.

"I'm becoming more and more certain that I should keep an eye on you," he said, burying his face into her neck. "I am not so convinced, though, that you should be afraid of the elves... maybe they should beware of you," he grinned up at Abbie as he finished.

"They definitely should. I can be dangerous," Abbie grinned then sighed as Ichabod's hands found their way under her shirt. "You know, I think you're right," Abbie murmured, trying to reach the knob on the stove and turn it off while Ichabod nibbled on her neck. "We should totally investigate this Santa Claus angle."

"I would rather investigate something else now."

"I think we're talking about the same thing."

"Good," Ichabod agreed to whatever Abbie was talking about.

* * *

"You all right?" Jenny leant against Frank's desk with a concerned look.

The man slowly lifted his head and gave her girlfriend a small, tired smile. "Hey," he croaked, reaching for her hand and entwining their fingers.

"Hey, yourself," she squeezed his hand with a rare gentle smile gracing her lips. "Let's get out of here."

"I can't..."

"Damn well you can," Jenny said sternly, pulling him up. "You've spent the last four days behind this desk." Frank raised an eyebrow. He wasn't really that sure that he'd like what was to come because it sure as hell wasn't something along the line of 'You need to have some proper rest, darling" or 'You need to have some real food, sweetheart'. "You need some exercise," Jenny suggested. Of course, Frank rolled his eyes internally.

"What do you have in mind?"

"I want to get a cat," Jenny smiled excitedly and all too sweetly. Any other man would have agreed on the spot... but not Frank.

"What kind of cat?" he asked suspiciously. Jenny fluttered her eyelashes and the captain knew that he was doomed.

"The huge, scary, demony like..." she trailed of as Frank slumped back in his chair.

"You want to hunt for a demon cat?" He looked up at her tiredly but not at all taken aback by her suggestion. Jenny nodded. "You know I don't have any problem with your crazy ideas..."

"But..."

"But you have the crazy duo for this kind of job. You want to go hunting for a demon, go get them."

"Abbie wouldn't come," Jenny huffed. "She's got her pink glasses on and refuses to believe anything that would pop her happy little Christmas bubble," she explained with an exasperated eye-roll.

"I can relate to that," Frank closed his eyes for a moment, fighting the fatigue that was creeping up on him.

"Hey," Jenny's voice become gentle once again and when Frank opened his eyes, she was crouching next to his chair. "Come on, let's go home," she stroked his cheek. "Just forget about the cat. I'll make you some dinner then you can have a good night's sleep."

The smile that she was giving him dazzled Frank and he could swear that in that moment he felt up to almost anything just to know her happy.

"No, no, that's all right," Frank said finally. "You want to get a demon cat, I'll get you a demon cat," he said it with utmost casualness. "But only on one condition," he turned to Jenny as he stood up. Jenny looked at him expectantly. "We go and have something to eat before getting your cat."

"Deal," Jenny grinned, rising on her tiptoes and pressing a kiss on the man's lips. "Now, let's go," and with that, she bounced out of the office. Frank followed her at a more measured pace, wonder why the hell he can't say no to that woman.

* * *

"Just how big do you think that cat is?" Frank asked eying the crate in the back of the car after Jenny had pulled up near the alleyway she'd seen the cat a couple of days earlier.

"Big," Jenny answered with an excited grin and, not for the first time that evening, Frank seriously regretted accompanying his girlfriend. And he seriously began to worry when he caught sight of the tranquilizer gun Jenny had just produced from the backseat.

"And what is that for?"

"To get the cat, of course. I hope you didn't think that we'll get it with some kibbles?"

"It did occur to me."

"You didn't see that thing. Besides, where'd be the fun in that? Come on. Let's get you some coffee then find that cat."

"You know," Frank spoke up some time later, trudging after Jenny in the dark alley, clinging to his mug of coffee for dear life, "I almost feel like being on a date with you."

"Aww," Jenny smiled back at him over her shoulder, stopping to let him catch up with her. "Someone's feeling romantic."

"Hardly," Frank chuckled as he stopped by Jenny. "But this does remind me of our first date."

"In the shooting range?" Jenny asked confused.

"All right. Maybe the second."

Jenny's eyes lit up at the memory. "When we got into a car chase?"

"Well, you did dress up for that one," Frank sighed. "But no," he shook his head. "When we were hunting that Hubris thing in the sewers," he shared.

A reminiscing smile appeared on Jenny's face. "That was fun," she said then continued walking. "Was that really our first date? I don't remember dressing up for that one."

"I tried to keep it casual," Frank explained. "A good thing, too, seeing that it'd have been hell running in the sewers in heels."

"You know," she spoke up after a couple of steps. "This conversation reminds me that you've never actually taken me on a real date," she mused with a teasing smile. "We never sat in a fancy restaurant with candles and wine."

"You really want to go to a fancy restaurant and sip some expensive wine in candle light?" Frank looked at her girlfriend stunned. The only reason he was pressing the idea was to get the thing out of the way. He was an old-fashioned guy in that respect – he wanted to date her properly. He'd have never in a million years imagined that Jenny liked the idea of it.

"What can I say," Jenny smiled at him coyly from over her shoulder. "A girl likes to dress up once in a while."

"I know you better than to believe that you want to parade around all dressed up just for the fun of it." Frank told her with raised eyebrows as, getting rid of the empty cup, he got hold of her hips and gently pressed her towards the firewall. "And anyway... They say it's the thought that counts... and God knows, I tried to take you out on a fancy date. That's not my fault that every damn time we end up running from a monster."

"Or after," Jenny pointed out. "Remember the time when we ended up breaking walls in search of those ugly crawling creatures."

"That was hot," Frank grinned, the image of Jenny all dusty, breaking walls, floating before his mind's eyes.

"Really?" Jenny asked. "You know, you're right. Who needs a fancy restaurant when we can have this?"

"Yeah, a dark and cold alley with a demon cat lurking in the shadows."

"Oh, a man after my own heart," Jenny grinned before claiming his lips.

Frank had just begun to forget why they were in a dark alleyway at the first place when Jenny abruptly pushed him away.

"What?" he asked the suddenly very alert woman.

"Someone's watching," she told him, looking around suspiciously then looked at Frank questioningly when she could feel his fingers prying a tranquilizer gun out of her hand.

"We're definitely being watched," she could hear him whisper and when she followed his now focused gaze, she caught sight of a pair of glowing green eyes. Her eyes got wide as Frank gently pushed her aside and she let him take an aim. Not long after that a whoosh broke the silence and the cat broke out in a panicked run.

The couple started after the scared cat and finally found it sprawled out next to a dumpster it had most probably didn't have the strength to crawl under.

"Now," Frank said standing over the unconscious cat. "You can't complaint that I don't get you anything," he looked at Jenny with a smug expression.

"Awesome," Jenny beamed at him and that smile alone made the whole night worth it for Frank.

"You're a special kind of girl, Mills, you know that right?" he chuckled.

"Why, thank you, Captain," Jenny grinned. "Now, let's get this thing back to the Archives," she told him and, as they gathered the cat, she took another glance around, not being able to shake the feeling of being watched.

**TBC**


	6. Chapter 6

_Disclaimer: I don't own anything._

* * *

**17th December**

The next morning found Jenny and Frank sound asleep down in the Archives. They'd fallen asleep by the table while searching for the identity of the mysterious cat they'd managed to capture the night before.

They were still sleeping when Katrina arrived. She was surprised by finding the sleeping couple but something more interesting caught her eyes a little further inside the large room. She left the couple to be and started towards the noise that caught her attention. She gasped when her searching eyes met with a pair of bright green that regarded her angrily from behind the bars of a large crate.

"Jennifer," without taking her eyes off of the creature, she called to the other woman, who jumped startled and blinked around her confused with an old piece of paper stuck to her wrinkled face. "What have you done?"

Slowly, Jenny regained her bearings then frowned, pulling the piece of paper off of her cheek. "Katrina?" she asked, looking for the woman whose voice she'd thought she heard. Katrina didn't answer her but she could hear movements from the back of the room. She stood quickly and started towards the direction of the crate, nudging the still sleeping Frank on her way.

"Where did you find this creature?" Katrina asked when Jenny walked up to her.

"Well, not in the local pet store."

"Do you have any idea what it is?"

"No. Do you?"

"I've never seen a creature like this," Katrina mused, walking closer to the crate and regarding the pacing cat in it. It was large like a panther but more slender and its black coat was painted grey stripes. And its eyes... they were almost glowing. "It looks…"

"Dangerous," Frank supplied, appearing behind the women, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"It's kind of cute," Jenny observed, giving the man a smile that Frank had long ago labelled as dangerous.

"No," he quickly explained. "We can't keep it."

"We should find out what this creature is," Katrina suggested. "It does look dangerous and most certainly not of this world. We have to know what we have at our hands."

"Whatever it is, it looks pissed," Frank observed.

"Or maybe agitated?" Jenny added.

"Well, it's in a cage," the man pointed out the obvious but it was Katrina who seemed to understand the cat's mood. She quickly grabbed for a blanket and covered the crate. It didn't take long and the pacing stopped.

"Look at that," Jenny raised an eyebrow. "It's like a parrot."

"I don't know what that means but it is logical to assume that this cat is the creature of the night. It probably doesn't like the light."

"That explains it, too," Jenny agreed. Frank snickered then turned to the women. "Well, ladies, I let you figure out the identity of our new pet. I'll be lying down on the couch, waiting for somebody to find out that I'm not at the Station." And with that he did turn in for a short nap while Jenny and Katrina took seat by the table starting to go through the books there.

For a long time their search was fruitless and Jenny also got a little side-tracked when she found a book with the title of Good or Bad? An Inquisitive Study of Yuletide Monsters.

This was how Abbie and Ichabod, who had decided to give a shot to Ichabod's Santa theory, found them when they entered the Archives later that morning.

"You wouldn't believe how many demons, monsters and ogres are out there who are taking naughty children before Christmas," Jenny looked up at the entering duo from behind a mountain of books she was thumbing through in search for her mysterious cat.

"Well, it is an age old tradition to stir children away from doing wrong by tales of monsters," Ichabod explained.

"You're talking about taking children, here?" Abbie asked curious as she walked up to her sister.

"Yep. The number of these monsters is astonishing."

"I assume these monsters weren't actually supposed to exist," she continued, picking up a random book from the table.

"Not necessarily," Katrina injected. "I heard accounts of the capture of such a monster up in the North not long before our time. She was most definitely real... and powerful, too. Such were her power that seven of the most accomplished witches could hardly banish her to Hell."

"Her?" Jenny asked, already leafing through her book in search of a female monster. "Which one was it? Frau Perchta?"

"She's German," Ichabod muttered, putting his hand in front of his mouth. The Mills sisters gave him an unimpressed look.

"Her name is Grýla."

"I haven't come across her yet," Jenny mumbled absentmindedly.

"What's her tale?" Frank sighed, joining the little group. "We're talking about a witch here?"

"No," Katrina replied indignantly. "Witches don't eat children."

"What?" Abbie, Jenny and Ichabod's head shot up on alarm while Frank just took everything in its stride.

"I don't think that the brothers Grimm would agree," he observed.

"Who?" Katrina asked but Frank dismissed her, not feeling up to explaining.

"In any case she is an ogress," Katrina continued. "She lives in a cave in the Dimmuborgir lava fields with her family... her third husband, Leppalúði, and their thirteen sons. Well, at least they used to live there until they were banished to Hell. From what I heard, Grýla loves eating children who'd been misbehaving during the year. She comes out before Christmas and looks for naughty children to devour them meanwhile her sons are harassing people and stealing from houses." Here Abbie and Frank shared a questioning look.

"What is her dear husband doing?" Ichabod asked.

"Nothing," Jenny supplied amused, having found the entry about the Icelandic ogress. "He's a lazy son of a bitch."

"Charming family," Frank noted dryly.

"And look," Jenny exclaimed, pointing at a picture in the book. "She's got a cat, too."

"A cat?" Abbie's head shot up, her eyes darting from her sister to her sheepish-looking boss and then to Katrina, who seemed strangely fascinated by the drawing in the book. "Don't tell me that..." she began while Ichabod looked on confused but her sentence was interrupted by a loud noise. Katrina and Jenny cringed in unison while Frank just sighed, rubbing his forehead.

"What was that?" Ichabod risked the question. Abbie didn't wait for an answer but walked up to the source of the noise that seemed to be something covered by a blanket and snatched the fabric away.

"I can't believe you, Jenny," Abbie cried. "Actually I can. You went after your imaginary cat?! You went after her imaginary cat?" she looked at the other woman's accomplices.

"As you can see, it's not imaginary," Jenny pointed out the obvious as she walked up to the group that had gathered around the crate, with book in hand. "I knew it wasn't an ordinary kitty. Listen, it says that its name's Jolak... Jolak..." she stumbled over the strange name.

"Jólakötturin," Ichabod supplied with ease.

"Bless you," Frank added.

"Anyway," Jenny dismissed the men, "it is said that it is a large and vicious cat. It lurks around the snowy countryside during Christmas time and eats those people who have not received new clothes to wear before Christmas Eve. I have not received new clothes," he looked up contemplatively then turned to Frank with an expectant look.

"It means that they were lazy and couldn't afford to buy new clothes," Ichabod supplied.

"Whatever is the reason for this," Abbie spoke up. "The cat is going around eating people."

"It's not so cute anymore, is it?" Frank asked her girlfriend. Jenny shrugged sheepishly as five pairs of eyes turned on the cat.

"I dare say that we have found the reason behind all the crimes in Sleepy Hollow," Ichabod pointed out dumbstruck. "Grýla has been unleashed to Earth," he concluded with terrified realization.

"With her jolly family, I assume," Frank added.

"Hohohoho..." Jenny closed her book, quickly losing her enthusiasm.

"At least we are now aware of the threat we are facing," Ichabod tried to remain positive.

"Demon activity," Abbie snarled. "Damn it!"

"Do not worry, Lieutenant," Ichabod turned to her. "I am certain that we can deal with the situation that has just presented itself."

"Yes," Katrina added. "I am sure that we will find a way to sent Grýla back to Hell before she would take another child."

"Well, sorry, but until we find seven powerful witches, I'll remain sceptic," Abbie snapped.

"Whatever," Jenny interjected. "But we won't find anything by standing around and being angry at the world." That earned her a look from her sister which she took with defiance.

"All right, people," Frank spoke up. "I'll leave you to do your jobs. I have mine. Let me know when you find something or – I know I'm gonna regret this – when you need anything."

"Thank you, Sir," Abbie said. "I'll be up in a bit."

"Have a nice day, Captain!" Ichabod said farewell before picking up a book and starting to read.

"I'll see out," Jenny offered, jumping up from her seat.

"I'm sorry for dragging you with me," Jenny told him with genuine regret when they stopped by the door.

"Don't be," Frank answered, pulling her closer by her waist. "That was the best sleep I had in days," he smiled, putting a kiss on her forehead. Jenny beamed up at him then claimed his lips in a deep kiss.

"See you later," she whispered before going back to the others. She didn't get far before she could hear Frank calling to her sister.

"Mills," the man turned back to the others, clutching his phone in his hand. "There'd been another," he told her, not feeling the need to elaborate. Everybody knew what he was talking about - another child went missing.

**TBC**

_All right, I'm afraid that was it for now. This story goes on hiatus with this chapter, I just wanted you to know what was happening in town before this finishes off. I'm really sad because I really wanted to write this story (and I have most of it written down, too) but at the moment I feel rather uninspired. Anyways, thanks for reading and happy holidays!_


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